Intangible
by Miss Skeeter
Summary: Ron always wanted to be rich. When he wakes up to a different life from his own, he realizes being rich has its consequences. Hermione has still remained intangible but this time, she’s his enemy.
1. Chapter One: Bloody Hell

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Summary: Ron always wanted to be rich. When he wakes up to a different life from his own, he realizes being rich has its consequences. Hermione has still remained intangible but this time, she's his enemy.

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Disclaimer: Nope, as much as I want to be a billionaire like JKR and own Harry Potter, I don't. But to make myself feel better, I own the plot, a Diet Sierra Mist, and chocolate chip cookies. So feel free to sue me.

A/N: I'm among the few to use an alternate universe in my plot but not the only one. This time, I'm using one of my favorite pairings Hermione/Ron and putting together the element of Ron's desire to be rich. If you want to find a lesson out of this story, there is one surprisingly. When you get what you want, you find that you don't want it anymore. Like Ron doesn't want to be rich because…oh, just read.

Intangible

By: Miss Skeeter

Chapter One

Bloody Hell

Her mesmerizing, honey eyes glittered in the firelight, her dark lashes fluttering as they blinked down at the dusty book in her delicate hands. A golden glow illuminated from her skin, and a strand of her silky hair brushed against her soft cheek. Her full, pink lips glistened, pulled into a small smile. The goddess carefully tucked the loose lock behind her ear, gazing at him questioningly. "Ron, _why _are you staring at me?"

The gangly redhead blushed, scratching his freckled nose nonchalantly. His ears reddened as he struggled to veil the blush creeping to his cheeks. "What makes you think I'm staring at you?" he said testily. "I was just looking at the--er--I mean, your hair. It looks different today…some gel?"

Her impassive eyes blinked at him. "_Ron_," she said, a slight tremor to her voice. Hermione chewed on her lip anxiously, peering down at her book again. "You think my hair looks horrible, don't you? Ron?" She stared up at him, her eyes flickering dangerously. He squirmed in his armchair, avoiding Hermione's piercing stare.

"No! That's not what I meant," he said earnestly, his cheeks burning. "I meant, it looks--um…good." Hermione leaned toward him, her eyes locking with his. Her warm breath caressed his skin gently, and her shimmering, lips taunted him as they wavered an inch from his eager ones. A sudden impulse drove him forward, his eyes closing. Hermione rested back into her armchair, her face screwed into a blank stare.

"Are you ill, Ron?" she asked concernedly. "My hair looks the same…and you're all red." She raised an eyebrow, tucking her book underneath her arm gingerly.

"No, honestly, Hermione," Ron rambled on, racking his brain for words. He touched his face, vainly veiling his tomato face. "Um…you changed your hair! Did you put…um…perfume in it? I mean…gel? Gel, right? Maybe Sleek--I mean, I'm going to bed. 'Night, 'Mione--Hermione, I meant." He jumped to his feet, striding up toward the staircase, ignoring Hermione's cries after him.

Ron moaned miserably, lumbering up the stairs. "What the hell was that, Ron?" he muttered angrily as he rolled onto his bed, wrenching the hangings around him. "Hermione probably thinks you're mental. Next thing you know, she'll tell me I have an illness according to the _Big Book of Diseases_." He wriggled in his robes, burying his face into his pillow, inhaling its scent. His nose declined the smell, yearning eagerly for Hermione's sweet fragrance instead.

Hermione affected him greatly. He fiddled with his fingers, his ears turning red under her presence. When she stared at him with her glittering, brown eyes, he averted his gaze, face burning. She'd talk in her soothing voice, and his tongue stumbled over words. With her around, he was a clumsy fool.

Ron blinked up at the dark canopy of his bed, wishing desperately that he could muster up the courage to talk to Hermione without stuttering or flushing. He squeezed his eyes shut, thirsting for his dreams haunted with her face. He slammed a fist into his bed, his thoughts straying to Viktor Krum. He vaguely remembered the snapped arm of his old model, and Hermione's furious face as she yelled at him.

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"Don't call him Vicky!"

He stifled a yawn, his eyelids drooping lazily. He fell asleep with her voice ringing in his ears, and regret crinkled on his face. He wished he could tell her how much she drove him crazy.

* * *

"God, Weasley. Had a rough night?" His eyes snapped open, staring up into a pair of laughing, dark ones. He yelped startled, slipping out of his bed, crashing onto the floor in a tangle of sheets. He cursed loudly as hands assisted him from the snare of blankets. 

"Wash your mouth," Dean Thomas chuckled merrily. "Didn't your mother ever teach you some manners?" He bent down swiftly to pull Ron up on his feet steadily. "Got a few good firewhiskeys down last night, eh?" He gestured toward Ron's rumbled robes. "C'mon, they're waiting for you in the Great Hall. Harry sent me here to fetch you."

"Yeah," Ron said vaguely, squinting at Dean. "Um…" He threw open his drawers, grabbing a pair of gleaming, black robes, unlike his usual tattered ones. He glanced bewilderedly at the polished trainers resting beside the pile of folded robes. "Damn, look at _those_!" He pointed at the shoes with utter disbelief.

"So what, mate?" Dean laughed. "Your trainers. Put them on and change your robes. Let's go before all the bacon's gone." He folded his arms, watching Ron run his hands over the shoes incredulously. "They're real, Ron. Put them on."

Ron laced the shoes on his feet and threw his old, wrinkled robes in the corner. He grabbed his bag, reaching to finger the frayed threads to find none. "Bloody hell!" he yelled. "My bag is _new_!" Dean raised an eyebrow as they skipped down the staircase easily.

"Not really," he pointed out. "You bought it months ago. Remember? Twenty Galleons, I recall. Not that much." Ron's eyes bulged.

"Twenty Galleons?!" Ron blinked down at the bag, clutching it tightly as though it would disappear in thin air…as though it was a hoax. "The hell that's not much! I don't even own one Galleon let alone _twenty_!" He dug into his bag, snatching an unfamiliar, velvet moneybag. He weighed it in his hand heavily, peering at the contents with astonishment.

"Damn, you are wasted," Dean said anxiously. "How many bottles did you have?"

"Um…I didn't," Ron said oddly. "What is this? Why am I rich?" Dean furrowed his brows in frustration, his hand clamping over Ron's forehead. "You don't feel hot," he remarked. Ron pushed the hand away impatiently, glowering at Dean. "Did you hit your head last night or did someone cast a Memory Charm on you? Hello? Ron, you're a Weasley, one of the bloody richest families in the wizarding world. Your father is one of the most respected purebloods and the Minister of Magic."

Ron halted, his eyes boring into Dean's. "Bloody hell! He is _what_? Last I heard, that stupid bloke, Cornelius Fudge was the Minister. I was not rich…and certainly not a respected pureblood. Next you'll be telling me I'm _friends _with Malfoy."

"You are," Dean pointed out. "Well, acquaintances at least…"

"Bloody hell," Ron repeated as Dean pushed him into the Great Hall. "Thomas, would you give up the joke? I don't believe it."

"Did someone cast a Memory Charm on you?" Dean asked peering into Ron's eyes. "Look, ask Dumbledore if you really think this is a joke. If you do, he'll know you've been out yesterday for a few whiskeys. But really, he'll tell you the same thing I'm telling you now."

They sauntered their way to the Gryffindor table, hands raining down on Ron's back in greeting. He numbly nodded in acknowledgement, the newfound information processing through his head. Where _was _he? He obviously was not in his own world he knew…friends with _Draco Malfoy _and he was rich? He pinched himself, wincing painfully as he stared down at the mark in his arm. A sudden grin spread across his face. He was in a world with no troubles…no worries about the single, sticky Knut in his pocket and _Hermione_. Was this Ron brave and cool with no stammering and blushing?

"I heard you were wasted last night," Seamus said in his ear, breaking into his thoughts. "Eat." Ron grinned widely, shoveling down a few eggs on his golden plate.

"How many?" Harry asked, his emerald eyes twinkling with amusement.

Ron decided to play along. "Um…six?" he surmised. "And a butterbeer I spilled down Madam Rosmerta's front." The boys laughed with a few Gryffindor girls joining with shrieking squeals. He stared at them, daring a wink. Lavender and Parvati sighed, fluttering their dark lashes at him flirtingly. He smiled as his eyes roamed down the table, scanning for a bushy brown head and wide, honey eyes.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked Harry casually, biting into his toast. Harry raised an eyebrow, searching Ron's face before answering slowly.

"Why do you want to know?" Harry said scornfully. "You know she's in the library." Seamus and Dean laughed scathingly. "The little bossy know-at-all. She gets on my nerves. Why did you ask? Are we playing a prank on her today?" He looked at the other two boys slyly.

Ron had the sudden urge to punch his friend. "What the hell is wrong with you? She's your _friend_!" he said angrily.

"Since when?" Harry asked coolly. "She's a geek, Ron. Furthermore, remember how bossy she was to us the first day of school? I swear, it's no wonder why she has no friends." Ron immediately recognized these words that had he had uttered in his first year when he caused Hermione to burst into tears. He guiltily stared down at his plate at the thought, and then glared at Harry for his harsh insults.

Ron found himself studying his friend's face, no longer gaunt and filled with shadows. His eyes glittered with happiness, and the bags mauled underneath them were gone. This world…this world was different. He pondered on Dean's words. If his father was the Minister of Magic, would it be possible that Sirius never died? That he cleared his name and lived with Harry? Is that why Harry was so cheerful?

"How's Sirius?" Ron risked, his eyes examining Harry's eyes for a glint of emotion.

"Great," Harry said enthusiastically, chewing on an egg. "He just sent me some dungbombs from home with his letter." Ron smiled weakly, glancing over his shoulder for a sign of Hermione. She was nowhere in sight, shrouded from his searching eyes.

"We aren't friends with Hermione?" he tried again wistfully. Harry shook his head.

"No, mate," Harry replied. "You hate her…actually. You just pushed her books out of her arms yesterday." He chuckled at the memory. "It was rather funny. Sirius says we shouldn't be so mean. I mean, we can't help it, can we? She's a _horrible _person. Always the first to raise her hand in class, always the first to boss us around, always the first to follow the rules… She's too uptight." His voice had an edge of finality to it.

"I remember now," Ron said in a hollow voice. He noted to himself to find Hermione and talk to her. How could he be so horrible? _Knocking _books out of her arms? It sounded like someone the scum Malfoy would do. "I really do."

"Glad you do," Seamus said guffawing. "Oops, we'll be _fashionably _late for McGonagall today, I guess." He glanced down at his watch carelessly.

"We are really late!" Ron yelped gawking down at the watch. "Let's go before McGonagall curses us to an oblivion…" He hurried to the entrance hall, glancing back at his three friends. "Why are you still sitting there?" Hermione would've bodily dragged them to Transfiguration. He merely stared at them with a puzzled expression.

"I _said _fashionably late," Seamus drawled after him. "No need to lose your knickers, Weasley. What's wrong with you today? You aren't yourself, even if you did get drunk last night…"

"I swear he had a Memory Charm done on him," Dean remarked, standing up. Harry just shrugged, flashing an anxious look at him. "Well, let's go before McGonagall gives us a week's detention. I'm sure we'll worm our way out of it…"

Ron racked his mind for an excuse, anything to find Hermione. He desperately needed someone to talk to, and he knew Seamus and Dean would blink at him incredulously, declaring he was touched in the head. _Harry_…perhaps he could corner his friend later. "Um…well, I'm feel sick," Ron lied through gritted teeth, clutching his stomach. He moaned pitifully. "You see, stomachache."

"Okay, we know how much you hate Transfiguration," Dean said his piercing eyes distinguishing the transparent act. "Have fun at the Hospital Wing." He grinned, brushing past Ron. Seamus clapped him on the shoulder, and Harry merely stared at him.

"Hey, can I talk to you later?" Ron whispered in his ear. "I really need to. It's important." Harry nodded with a small smile. "Thanks." He watched the three saunter down the corridor, several students halting to greet them breathlessly. They were the gods of the school…the leaders of the Gryffindors. They had a confidence they once didn't have and a power that they thirsted for. They changed in this world, warped into people he no longer recognized. _Hermione_. The name clicked in his head abruptly, nagging at him. _Find Hermione_.

Wouldn't she be in Transfiguration with the rest? He groaned, sticking his hands in his pockets. He was rich and popular. Wasn't this what he always wanted? Shouldn't he be taking the advantage, living the life he dreamed of? Ron, apparently, was the ringleader of the admired group, the one who had confidence and didn't blush. The one who knocked Hermione's books out of her arms? He shook his head. Perhaps they misinterpreted an accident into a cruel joke. Maybe, in this world, he had the courage to ask Hermione to Hogsmeade with him…or tell her he liked her.

Ron ambled aimlessly down the corridors, running his fingers through the stone walls. He whistled to himself, twisting the doorknob of the Transfiguration classroom. The door creaked open, announcing his arrival. He smiled smoothly at a livid Professor McGonagall. "I'm sorry, Professor. I had a stomachache," he said searching for an empty seat.

"Be as that may," McGonagall said, pursing her lips together, "detention, Mr. Weasley. I do not tolerate you or _anyone_--" She frowned at the sniggering Dean, Seamus, and Harry. "--to interrupt my class. Now sit down next to Ms. Granger and please kindly tell Mr. Weasley what the lesson is about today."

Ron's ears perked at the mention of _her _name, his gaze following McGonagall's to the back of the room, eyes widening.


	2. Chapter Two: Questions without Answers

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Summary: Ron always wanted to be rich. When he wakes up to a different life from his own, he realizes being rich has its consequences. Hermione has still remained intangible but this time, she's his enemy.

Disclaimer: Sorry, I'm not JKR. Wish I was, but I'm not. So sue me if you want, but you'll only get cookie crumbs, a piece of bread, and a half-eaten Baskin Robbins ice cream cake (it might melt in the mail, though).

A/N: Hi! Wow, thanks for all the reviews…especially bant, luckyducky8200, nenahispana, HogwartzBoizRHottiez, and Kalasin. To clear everything up, Ron fell asleep and is in a different world. No dream, but it's real… The reason why will probably be vague, just to let you know. It's like those kind of…make-up-your-own-opinion about it stories. Well, on with the story…

Intangible

By: Miss Skeeter

Chapter Two

Questions Without Answers

He nervously dropped his bag onto the desk, his eyes fixing onto her shimmering, honey eyes. She tied her bushy brown locks into a messy bun, a few strands falling gently onto her glowing face. Her delicate hand clutched a quill, and her scrawl curled into bold words on the piece of parchment before her. He stared at her mouth, bewildered at the nasty frown she gave him. Her eyes narrowed, and she turned her head swiftly back toward McGonagall without a single word.

Ron turned to Dean and Seamus across the room, watching them laugh silently at him with twinkling eyes. Harry merely shot Hermione an irritated glance before setting a sympathetic stare at him. He whirled toward Hermione, suddenly noting her large front teeth. She looked more like she did in their third year than she did now--or in his world.

"Hey, um, what are we…er doing?" Ron stammered. He cursed himself immediately. This Ron would never stutter _or _blush!

"Why do you care?" Hermione snapped witheringly. "You never pay attention, _Weasley_." Venom dripped from her voice as she uttered his name as though she would Malfoy's. Ron shuddered slightly, his face twisted into an incredulous look.

"Well, can you tell me now?" Ron wondered. He struggled to keep a blush from rising to his cheeks as he stared into Hermione's eyes, filled with hatred and irritation.

"If you care, it's about the subject, Animagus," she snapped grudgingly. "Please be quiet. You're ruining my concentration." She turned her head back to McGonagall intently, her hand scribbling down each and every word uttered from the professor's mouth.

"Oh," Ron said. "You know plenty about Animaguses, 'Mione."

"What did you call me, Weasley?" Hermione snarled quietly, eyes narrowing. "Why do always insist on teasing me? Gods, and don't call me 'Mione like I'm your…_friend_!"

"You are," Ron insisted desperately. Why was Hermione acting so…nasty toward him? Even if they fought, she never showed as much spite for him as this. "You, me, and Harry." Hermione gave a quiet, bitter laugh.

"No," she corrected him. "I'm not stupid. You and Harry are friends. I'm not your friend…anything but, Weasley! It's always you insulting me, pushing books out of my arms, tearing up my notes…no, we aren't friends. And I believe the correct grammar would be 'you, Harry, and I'."

Ron stared. He tore up her notes…pushed her books out of her arms…and insulted her? They obviously weren't friends but enemies. Or rather a bully and his prey.

"But--" The bell rang, announcing their leave and cutting off Ron to Hermione's displeasure. Several relieved students jumped to their feet, cramming their Transfiguration books into their bags. Over the clamor, Professor McGonagall shouted their homework. "And detention tomorrow at seven, Weasley! My office."

Ron picked up his bag, shouldering it carefully. Hermione recklessly shoved past him, folding her notes angrily. "Stupid Weasley," she muttered as she followed the class through the door. Dean, Seamus, and Harry waited patiently as he hurried toward them, flustered.

"Hey, how was sitting next to Ms. Uptight?" Dean asked guffawing.

"Wonderful," he replied dryly. In fact, her stinging comments hurt him. He reminded himself that Hermione in the real world would value him as a friend. He also reminded himself that he would never confess his love for her in the real world either. He cursed quietly, knowing that in both worlds he could never have Hermione. Unless…unless he did something about it.

"Saw you talking to her," Seamus said grinning. "She looked mad."

"Yeah," Ron said offhandedly.

"So…up to doing something?" Dean asked mischievously. "Let's enlarge her teeth. Like they needed it anyways." The boys laughed, and Ron glowered defensively at them.

"Shut it, Thomas," he snapped angrily. "Don't talk about her like that."

"That's what you said last week," Dean countered. "Since when did you stick up for little Know-it-all?"

"Since I became her friend!" Ron snarled. "Why do you need to make her life miserable?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Seamus asked furiously. Harry stared silently at Ron, his eyes inquiring him. "Gods, it's like you've changed."

"I have," Ron said coldly. "Did you even get a chance to know her? If you did, you'd see what I see."

"What's that? A bushy-haired, bossy know-it-all?" Seamus said sardonically.

"No, I think she's pretty," Ron blurted out. He blushed immediately, whirling around. "I'll see you." His feet carried him quickly down the corridor, leading him amid a thick crowd of students. Heat crept up his neck, and his ears reddened. He clapped his hand over his mouth, chewing on his tongue furiously. "Stupid, stupid! I'm in a different world now." A world where Hermione was intangible…not much changed from the real world about that.

"I need to talk to…Dumbledore," Ron said running a hand distractedly through his fiery mop. "Harry." He paused, wondering whether his friend would believe him or merely laugh and tell him to visit the infirmary.

He sighed, glancing about the corridor. "Hermione?" He shook his head. She would scream at him and shrug it off as a prank. He vaguely remembered that this Hermione…this Hermione was what Hermione could've been if not she befriended Harry and him.

"Granger, you mean?" an amused voice asked. Ron whirled around, staring to a pair of twinkling emerald eyes behind spectacles. "Want to talk? Who cast a Memory Charm on you?" A smirk crossed Harry's face.

"No one," Ron said anxiously. He leaned against the stone wall, glancing at the empty classroom beside him. "C'mon." He slipped through the door, anxiety mounting quickly. What if Harry thought he was a lunatic? Harry followed him inside, pointing his wand at the door. The handle twisted and clicked loudly, announcing the locked door. He muttered a few words underneath his breath, prodding at the door carefully. Straightening, he turned to Ron, hitching a smile on his face.

"Well? Spill." Harry comfortably climbed onto a desk, his legs stretching across to another desk.

"Please believe me," Ron began, pacing. "And don't send me to St. Mungo's. I…I'm in the wrong world, Harry." He stopped, studying his friend's bewildered expression. "I live in a different world. First of all, I'm poor. My father is not the Minister of Magic…but Cornelius Fudge is. Sirius never cleared his name, and he…" He paused, contemplating whether he should inform Harry Sirius had died. He shook his head. "He…doesn't live with you. Hermione is our friend…we saved her from a troll and became friends. She's not as uptight as she is here and--and I like her, okay?" Silence hovered between them. Ron ignored Harry's eyes penetrating him and glanced out the window, absentmindedly watching the sun sink beneath the hills. Pink streaks stretched across the glowing sky.

Laughter pierced the tension. "You could've just said you liked her instead of that bull," Harry said grinning. "No wonder you tease her so much!"

"_No_!" Ron yelled frustrated. Harry pressed his lips together, his eyes examining Ron seriously. "You don't get it! I'm telling the bloody truth!" He raked his fingers through his hair. "I knew you wouldn't believe me…"

Harry stared uncertainly at Ron. "I'm not sure what to believe," he said honestly, dropping his legs from the desk. "I mean…you look so serious but what if you're just…I don't know."

"Loony?" Ron said coldly. He sighed. He hated the skeptical look Harry flashed him. He hated the fact that no one would believe. He just wanted to go back to his own world with his same worries and habit of blushing.

"Look straight into my eyes, and tell me you're not lying," Harry said determinedly. Ron bore his eyes into Harry's, his jaw set.

"I'm not lying," Ron said slowly, articulating each word.

"Bloody hell," Harry said eyes widening.

* * *

"So are you telling me, Granger and I are friends?" Harry asked incredulously, munching on a scone. "And you _like _her?"

"Yeah," Ron answered for the fourth time. "Believe it."

"You just woke up…here?" Harry inquired, shoving the rest of the scone into his mouth. He licked at the few crumbs around his lips before swallowing.

"Yeah," Ron repeated. "But don't tell anyone, or they'll think I escaped from St. Mungo's. It's so different…I mean, just because I'm rich, you know? I never knew being poor effected all the events that happened in my world."

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly. "Sirius didn't get his name cleared?"

"Fudge is the Minister of Magic," Ron explained. "So he doesn't believe us. My father more likely believes Sirius, right? I mean, if Dumbledore believes him and all…probably used a Truth Potion on him."

"Yeah, exactly," Harry said handing Ron a Chocolate Frog. Ron accepted it gratefully, unwrapping the Frog and biting off its head. "So what happens? Does Sirius die?" His face darkened at the thought.

"No," Ron lied. "He's just on the loose, as Fudge likes to call it. You and Hermione saved him from the Dementor's Kiss. "

"_Granger_?" Harry said disbelievingly. "Whoa, she's different in your world. Is she pretty?" Ron glared at Harry.

"She's pretty here, too," Ron snapped irritably. "Just bossy."

"With big, chipmunk teeth," Harry added before shooting an apologetic glance at Ron. "I don't really mean it…I guess. I mean, I'm not friends with her so…sorry. So you like her?"

"Yeah. I can't tell her though," Ron said miserably. "She hates me here…and I can't tell her back home."

"Well, make the best of it, mate," Harry said wisely. "If you like her, make friends with her here…and ask Dumbledore how to get back to your world. I mean, then I'll get the old Ron back, and you'll get the old Harry."

"Yeah," Ron said. "I'd better tell Dumbledore. Then catch up to Hermione…"

"I don't see why you like her," Harry said shrugging. "My other counterpart might."

"Maybe," Ron said blushing. "She absolutely hates me here."

"Yes, she does," Harry said smirking. "You'll have a hard time reeling her in. She's the only lady who won't take you."

"Not like I have much charm," Ron muttered to himself. They halted short at the gargoyles, frowning slightly. "Password, Harry?"

"Um…lemon drop?" Harry guessed. The gargoyles planted firmly to the ground. "Chocolate Frogs, Cockroach Clusters…Sugar Quill?" The gargoyles slid apart, allowing them to pass through the opening. They glided onto the moving staircase easily, finding themselves facing the shiny, oak door.

Ron grabbed the cold knocker, knocking it against the wood. **_Bang. Bang._**

"Come in." Ron twisted the knob, pushing the door open swiftly. The soft murmurs of the portraits buzzed in his ears. His eyes feasted upon the eccentric office he vaguely remembered from a few years back. Silver instruments whirred on desk, and the frayed, patched Sorting Hat drooped on his shelf with the shimmering sword he recognized from the Chamber of Secrets. Harry, caked with blood and dripping with slime, emerged from the rocks with the sword in his hand and Ginny beside him. Ron smirked at Harry's resemblance to a knight in shining armor.

"Fawkes," Ron acknowledged, staring at the phoenix with its gold and scarlet plume. He stroked its head, staring at its feathers apprehensively. He recalled holding them as the bird fluttered up the tunnel into Mourning Myrtle's bathroom. He suddenly noticed Dumbledore's sapphire eyes penetrating him, and he immediately snapped from out of his thoughts.

"What is it that brings you two today?" the Headmaster asked. His silver beard brushed his table as he reached over to snatch a tin. He opened it, plopping a yellow candy into his mouth. "Lemon drop?" He offered the tin to them, but they politely declined.

"I need to discuss something important with you, Professor," Ron said hastily. Dumbledore gazed at Ron curiously. He uncomfortably lowered his eyes, reddening slightly at the attention the portraits and Dumbledore gave him. He could almost see the inhabitants of the portraits peeking at him from underneath their half-closed eyelids.

"Well, and that's it, Professor," Ron concluded, his eyes anxiously searching Dumbledore's face. "I don't know why I'm here."

Dumbledore leaned toward Ron, his sapphire eyes twinkling. "There's something you need to accomplish here," he said wisely. "I suggest you complete it before returning to your own world. Meanwhile, you may take classes here. Hogwarts is indeed a strange place filled with magic…I cannot help you in this turn of events, but I trust that you and Mr. Potter keep your mouths shut until you're deemed to leave."

Ron raised a brow, exchanging a confused look with Harry. "Go on, now. I believe you have Charms in a few minutes," Dumbledore said firmly, plopping a lemon drop into his mouth.

"Bye, Professor," Ron said disappointment laced in his voice. He closed the door shut behind him, staring into Harry's face with despair. "What do I need to do _here_?"

"I dunno," Harry said shrugging. "Maybe instead of getting Ts, you can get a E on your next Charms essay." Ron cracked a smile. Harry twisted his face into a serious look.  
"But…maybe it's something you couldn't do in your world…that you can do here. You know? Or something that you need to change to this Ron. Not that you need anything changed anyways," Harry added quickly.

Ron followed Harry in silence, his brain working furiously to answer the questions roaming through his head.


End file.
